


Umbrellastuck

by Taimat



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-19
Updated: 2011-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 19:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taimat/pseuds/Taimat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a whole four years old, Dave had wanted his own umbrella. Wanted to hold it himself. And you couldn’t say no. But eventually the wind proves too much, ripping the umbrella free from tiny fingers and sending it hurtling down the street, just as the light changes and the crosswalk becomes filled with people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Umbrellastuck

Dave’s small hand is held tightly in yours as you stand on the street corner, just a foot shy of the curb and its accompanying huge puddle. Raindrops fall heavily on your umbrella, making the clear, glitter-infested surface tremble. Dave’s free hand holds fast to his own umbrella, a bright green thing with two large painted eyes and a floppy red tongue hanging off one side in a ridiculous rendition of a frog’s face. The tongue blows in the wind as it gusts past, and little fingers clench harder.

Being a whole four years old, Dave had wanted his own umbrella. Wanted to hold it himself. And you couldn’t say no. But eventually the wind proves too much, ripping the umbrella free from tiny fingers and sending it hurtling down the street, just as the light changes and the crosswalk becomes filled with people.

There is a soft cry, silenced almost as soon as it’s heard, and instead of chasing after the lost cause, Dave grips your hand and pulls you across the street, your umbrella held dutifully over the two of you. Once you hit the other side, Dave looks off into the distance, just to make sure the umbrella is really and truly gone, and he presses closer to your leg to keep out of the rain. He doesn’t scream. Doesn’t cry. Doesn’t plead.

And what can you do?

Bending easily, you lift him with one arm, his arms going around your neck. Large red eyes peek over the top of his shades as he looks up at you from his perch on your hip, like he’s asking you what he should be doing. How he should react.

So you hold your umbrella out to him.

“Gimmie a hand, lil’ bro. Wind’s strong, and I’m gonna need it.”

With a nod and the most determined look you’ve ever seen on a four-year-old, he wraps both hands around it, just above your own.

And even though his head slowly drops to rest against your chest, even though you’re sure his eyes are closing behind his shades, his little hands never once let go throughout the long walk home. You have to work the umbrella free gently when you reach your apartment so that you can close it and get through the door.

He’s fading fast while you climb three flights of stairs, and when you drop the wet umbrella on the floor and toe off your shoes before tugging off his smaller ones, he mumbles something sleepily under his breath and fists your shirt like he used to do when he was even younger. Like he used to do before he began to perfect the art of being cool, taking on your facade like it was his own.

This is okay, too. You head toward the old couch that sags a bit too much in the middle and lower the two of you onto it, Dave curled in your lap like he hasn’t been in what feels like ages.

You press a kiss to his soft blond hair and watch the rain fall outside, just you and your favorite person in the entire world.


End file.
